To the Dark Alleys of Rebellion
by See266
Summary: Having lost all of the light forces during the trio's time on the run, the Order of the Phoenix has fallen to ashes. Harry, Hermione and Ron have retreated into their own dark corner and have left the light behind, aiming to start an unrivalled fire of rebellion.
1. When fire is applied to stone it cracks

**Thank you to skyjadeprincess for favouriting and to bwota3 for following. I've decided to rewrite chapters one and part of chapter two, and I've combined them into this chapter. They just felt a bit clunky but I'm a lot happier with them now. Hope you enjoy! **

**...**

You do not _avada_ an unarmed man.

You do not leave a person in need.

You do not kill a child.

No one deserves to die alone.

These are the rules they had fought by, soldier after soldier falling next to them. As friends' bodies crumpled into the ground, they waited for the end by their sides, never using distractions to their advantage. Fairness had cost them dearly, being good had wrecked their world. So they weren't the same heroes anymore.

...

No one paid any attention to two bodies pressed against a wall. The war had pushed social customs out the window, leaving people clutching to whatever humanity they could. The flames down the other end of the street attracted a crowd, all too distracted to see the knife that one of the intertwined figures pulled out; its victim's screams were lost in the flurry of confused cries around the fire. Not one person paid much attention to the bloody body discarded in an alley; the war had taken many casualties and now they did not care as long as their loved ones were safe. Nobody noticed the distinctive crack of disapparation as a ginger haired boy disappeared from the crime scene.

...

Every nerve in his body screamed as she hit him with curse after curse. She was ruthless, torturing him to find the secrets lurking in his head. His body was breaking, mind no longer strong enough to protect the knowledge. And then she was inside his head. And it hurt. It hurt as she ripped him to shreds from the inside out, tearing him open to find his secrets. He was nothing compared to the raw determination of the bushy-haired girl. He was nothing and she was brutal.

...

The office was organised neatly, making the job a quick in and out. It didn't take long to find the plans; those confident in their power tend to leave traces. Pulling his invisibility cloak over his head, a green-eyed boy walked in the shadows to the nearest disapparation point. A flash of long, red hair appeared in a doorway next to him and it was all he could to hold himself together until he felt the familiar bump of landing safely in their hideout.

She came with her fire-like red hair and passion burning behind her eyes. _Ginny. _Guilt started to rise up in his chest and he felt numb with grief as his demon snarled at him.

'_You left me. You knew which way the war was headed. You left me and you're too weak to face your actions.'_

She twisted his fears, left his guilt clawing at his throat, screaming silent pleas for her to stop.

Her mangled body was imprinted on his eyelids. He could see the death and destruction they had found at the Burrow upon their return. If he looked to the left he could see a mother who had thrown herself in front of her daughter in a final, meaningless sacrifice. The Death Eaters didn't only kill, they maimed, and they revelled in every second of it.

Harry Potter could only listen as her words bit him, an animal attacking him from inside with each passing second. He could only sit helplessly as the guilt overcame him and the dark was shattered in a display of raw and agonised magic.

...

_One. _

_Two._

_Three. _

Ron Weasley counted the number of seconds until the men in masks found him.

_Four._

_Five._

_Six._

Drawing the final runes on the wall he stepped back, melting into the shadows.

_Seven._

_Eight._

_Nine._

The men turned the corner. Coming face to face with a wall, they stopped and reached out a hand to touch the strange markings covering the barrier.

Ron didn't even blink as he disapparated from the wreckage, focussed on returning to the only safe place he knew.

He stood silently at the edge of the stairs. It was deathly quiet and, with the adrenaline seeping out after his mission, he felt awfully alone standing there.

He hadn't moved when someone else came up, and Hermione was looking at him with a strange sense of urgency. He had only just begun to form his sentence when he was thrown backwards in a wave of unyielding energy.

...

Hermione Granger fell back exhausted. It had taken all the strength she had to obliviate her victim's memory - he had been fighting for days and her curses had left a permanent blemish in his mind. She tried not to think about his pleading; it tugged on the few unhardened heartstrings she had left. Inside she knew it was stupid, he had bragged to her about the mangled bodies he liked to leave behind. But with every memory she obliterated, she felt a little further away from the caring girl her parents had raised.

Pieces of dry blood flaked out from under her fingernails. She was in desperate need of a shower, an escape from magic and war and death and blood and torture. But having collected information - vital information - she knew that there wasn't any time for her to hide away.

Her muscles screamed in protest after uninterrupted hours of mindless wand waving. She didn't stop to look at the groaning body behind her; he was a shell. She would deal with him later.

'Merlin's fucking saggy balls.'

Hermione moved up the stairs slowly, dragging her limbs towards the only other room they had.

They weren't ready, she knew that much, but time wasn't on their side and they had to move fast. She looked up and chocolate eyes met tired blue before she was blasted away by a surge of pure power.


	2. Fire starts with sparks

**Thank you to tianemariah1 and Redly1024 for favouriting and following and to WinterIllios for following. **

**I have written and rewritten this chapter more times than I can count - sorry for the long delay. Please bear with it - the second section of the chapter is a lot better than the first!**

**Disclaimer - I would shout it from the rooftops (making sure to maintain a two metre distance from anyone that was listening) if I owned Harry Potter. Creds to JK Rowling, especially for the directly copied bits**

**Enjoy!**

When Hermione awoke a day later, she was surrounded by darkness. She could feel something soft beneath her and through her exhaustion- blurred mind she could hear murmured whispers which lulled her back to sleep.

...

The next time she woke up, light brighter than she had seen for months pierced through her eyelids, but her surroundings smelt like the worn down muggle appartement the trio had made their base. Someone sat beside her bed, her war-trained senses picking up on the quiet breathing. She didn't dare move.

'Hermione I know you're awake.'

Recognising the voice, her eyes snapped open.

'There's no need to look quite so worried, you know me, I'm Susan Bones. You're safe, go back to sleep.'

...

The third time, there were raised voices behind her head.

'It's dangerous staying here with them-'

'Would you rather I left them and let Death Eaters find them?'

'That's not what I meant,' a pause, 'have you thought about the fidelius?'

'We don't have enough power.'

Silence.

'The Macmillans were attacked.'

'Fuck. Ernie?'

'They were all at home.'

'Merlin.'

Another pause, where in the silence they both seemed to be searching for something to say.

'So, will you reconsider the warding?'

'I don't know, Dean we can't waste precious energy-'

'You're underestimating the risks.'

'We're in the middle of a war, risks come built in.'

A longer silence.

'Funeral is on Friday, a joint service with the Corners.'

Quiet.

'I'll let myself out.'

Footsteps faded away as Hermione's brain tried desperately to process what she had just heard. The door opened and the vaguely familiar face of Susan Bones poked around the door.

'Hermione! you're awake, I'm so sorry you had to hear that. How are you feeling?'

'I'm okay,' she said, neglecting to mention the way her eyes refused to focus properly and the nausea that lay in the pit of her stomach, 'is it true?'

Susan paused, seemingly deciding whether or not she should act ignorant.

'Yes, we've lost a lot of people.'

'But you're still in contact with Dean?'

'The DA still meet up - when we can, what's left of us anyway,' she added the last bit bitterly.

'How many?'

'There's only me, Dean, Neville, Luna and Hannah. Oh and Zacharias Smith but we're all pretty sure that he's a death eater now.'

'Wow they've dropped their standards.' Hermione lay in silence for a few seconds, processing the number of close friends that had died without her even knowing. 'I had no idea there were so many.'

'We tried to contact you but, well -'

'Yeh. We couldn't risk anything.'

The silence settled again, the feeling of powerlessness that had lurked in Hermione's mind was now threatening to open up old wounds. Susan hovered at the edge of her bed as if she had something else to tell her. Finally she said, 'We don't blame you.'

Hermione didn't need to ask what for, and she didn't know quite how to express her gratitude for those four simple words.

'I'll let you get some rest,' Susan continued, 'I'm sure that you have plenty of other questions, but right now your magical core is still drained from the accident.'

She was already asleep before Susan had finished speaking.

...

Over the next few hours, Hermione woke up continually, each time exchanging a few words with Susan. It was only later that evening, when she had recovered enough to think straight again, that she decided it was time to find out what had happened.

'I don't know fully. We - the remaining DA members that is - our galleons burned through our clothes and when we took them out they acted as, I don't know, some kind of portkey? We were at your appartement and you were all lying on the floor and it looked like there was some kind of accident or something. And you, your head was bleeding so I brought you in here and you were showing signs of both physical and magical exhaustion. We were all - Neville, Dean and I - expecting you to stay asleep for days but it's only been a day, and… and you're almost better.'

'Permanent healing charm. Blood magic. Figured it was necessary with a war on. Harry and Ron?'

'Right yeah. I'm surprised that you didn't ask about them straight after you woke up.'

'After being together for so long I can sense them. They're fine and they're near and that kept me from worrying.'

'You've changed, the Hermione I knew in school would have gone mad by now.' Susan sounded vaguely nostalgic and Hermione recognised the feeling of regret coating her tone all too well.

_Hermione was sitting at the flat waiting. It had been thirty-two hours. They weren't supposed to have been gone more than a day. She waited and she waited and she waited. And nothing. The four rooms they had had been arranged and rearranged with what little furniture they owned more times than she could count, and each little sound echoed in her skull. She was going crazy, jerking at the faintest movement of the air around her. The silence was louder than even the incessant thoughts in her head. Exhaustion had been leaking into her veins for hours now, each minute pushing her magic further out of her control. Nervousness seemed a vague memory. She was gripped. Gripped by a recurring feeling of nothingness. Being pulled further and further down into a pit of empty. _

_When Harry and Ron had returned another fifteen hours later she was collapsed on the floor, having sent herself so far into a complete panic that she didn't fully recover for days. They vowed never again, learning how to sense each other's locations and wellbeing. War had broken them each individually, and being completely and totally isolated was the only torture Hermione would now break under. Yes she had changed, but only because she would be insane if she hadn't. _

'War does that to you.'

A silence stretched on.

'Yes.' said Susan softly, 'They're fine. Ron's been awake for hours but Harry's taking a little longer to come round. Physically he's fine but his magic hasn't settled yet.'

'What's the date again?'

'20th of April.'

'SHIT'

'Hermione?'

'There's a trial coming up, it's massive and we have to stop it because the outcome's already decided and they're going to administer the kiss to all of them and we have to stop them but right now I'm stuck in a bed and can't do anything!' Hermione said with a single breath. Then she took a moment and Susan could almost see the cogs of her brain working. Soon enough she was issuing orders to her healer. 'I need to see Ron and Harry. Meanwhile you can call all the DA people. Use the galleons if you can or floo - no the Death Eaters control that so - just get them here as soon as possible. Got that? Brilliant. Let's go.'

'_And that's the Hermione I remember,' _thought Susan.

…..

Ron Weasley hadn't suffered quite as much as Hermione, largely because he wasn't so completely exhausted before the accident. He slept only for the night - which was still longer than he had slept since sixth year - before getting up the next day.

In the time between waking up and Hermione's meeting, Ron had shouted, a lot, at Susan who refused to let him see either of his best friends in case it disturbed their recovery, shouted some more at Dean who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and eventually decided that, whilst shouting did get rid of a lot of pent up tension, it was not, in fact, the most productive use of his time.

And that is how he found himself walking down the steps to the cellar, dreading whatever he would find since Hermione had left it a day ago. It was quieter than he would have expected if the body was still alive, and he doubted she would have put it under any kind of stasis charm. Ron has always hated this place, with its dingy walls and rusted chains. Back at the beginning of the war they had balked at the very idea of torture, but now there was a mangled body waiting to deal with. He didn't even blink an eyelid.

'_Lumos'_

His magic reacted to his intent, the whole room becoming bathed in a warm light, a trick he had learned while cooped up inside a tent for months on end.

'_Yes but how?' Hermione asked for the hundredth time. _

'_I don't know, okay.' Harry's voice was tired from trying to explain, 'Sometimes magic just reacts - it just… just knows. Like when mouldyshorts attacked me; my wand just acted because I was so desperate.'_

'_Hmph.'_

'_Hermione,' Ron had injected, 'don't you think that there is perhaps a small possibility that you - at the ripe young age of eighteen - have not completely understood magic's hidden workings?'_

'_I was not claiming that I had, _Ronald.' _A sentence that was punctuated by throwing a pillow at said boy. _

'_Hey hey hey don't shoot the messenger.'_

'_Ron mate you weren't delivering anyone's message.'_

_At which point Ron threw the pillow at Harry. 'She doesn't have to know that though does she?'_

'She _is right here.' Hermione growled_

'_That's funny, I thought she was the cat's pyjamas,'_

'_Seriously mate quit while you're ahead.'_

'_Boys,' muttered Hermione, 'fine, Harry, but we are going to learn whatever the hell you managed to shield yourself with.' _

_Quelled by the dark glare Hermione shot their way, the boys didn't dare to disagree. And thus they spent a solid month perfecting 'The Magic of Intention' as Hermione proudly called their studies. _

It was funny how even the light couldn't shake the dense darkness that clung to the bricks.

There was a pile of paper on the beaten up table that stood in the corner of the room, a dictating quill flopped down on top of it. Ron guessed that the magic on it had run out. There were pages and pages of notes and all of a sudden he understood why she was still recovering; she must have been down here for over a day. On top of the first page there was a red mark.

'No family then. Nothing at all. Guess you ran to Tommy boy because you had nothing left. Pity.'

His footsteps echoed from wall to wall as he trod over to the mangled body in the corner.

'Shit Hermione.' he said when he reached it, 'You weren't messing around.'

The man was crumpled over so completely that Ron would guess that both his ribs and hips had been hit by a bone shattering curse. Time to find out if there was any life left in him at all. He kicked the body. Once. Twice. Three times.

'_Rennervate'_

There was a groaning sound.

'Still alive then. Doesn't make my job any easier. _Scourgify.'_

He worked quickly and soon the body had dirty blonde hair and was almost entirely unrecognisable. With it swung over his shoulders, Ron disapparated with a distinctive crack. The forest was lighter than he had anticipated, but it made a nice change from the pressing darkness of the flat. He left the body in a clearing and, having tied a two-stop portkey to its left arm, he stepped back.

'_English Channel' _

Ron whispered the address then, after the body had been taken away, he disapparated, the forest returning to its undisturbed state. He had chosen it for its seclusion, if anyone did identify the body - and even that was unlikely - it was almost certain that by the time they connected it with the forest, any magic that could be traced back to him would have dissipated.

When he arrived back at the flat again, he walked up the stairs and found Hermione waiting in the living room.

'Hermione,' Ron said, his smile spreading lopsidedly over his face, 'you're looking peaky.'

'You - complete - _arse -_ Ronald - Weasley,' Hermione smirked at him, her voice far softer than the first time she had shouted those words after his disappearance on the run.

'I went to the cellar,'

'And?'

'I find that camping and then a visit to the sea is particularly nice this time of year.'

'A two stop holiday?'

'Only the very best. And a trip to the beautician beforehand.'

Hermione opened her mouth the respond, but was interrupted by Susan. 'I hate to disrupt whatever game you two are playing, but Hermione you did just call for an urgent meeting.'

'Urgent?' Ron raised an eyebrow at the bushy-haired girl.

'Hold on until Harry's here.'

'He'll be down in a minute, I've just checked on him. His magic is still very unstable so just, be gentle.'

'I hate that you think you have to ask.'

…...

Walls had pressed down on Harry throughout the day, his magic pushing and writhing like some sort of wild animal. The door opened multiple times, but no one dared stay for very long. It wasn't until he started to respond that Susan uttered a few words.

'Harry you're safe and still at your flat. You're in absolutely no danger.'

He groaned, the words grating on his ears despite her gentle tone.

'Harry this is Susan Bones, we went to Hogwarts together and I was in Dumbledore's Army. I'm not an imposter; the first thing you taught us was _expelliarmus_. I need you to listen to me. Can you reach out for your magic and try and calm it?'

He reached out with his mind, only processing enough to realise that she wouldn't try to kill him. There were wispy tendrils of power floating on the edge of his consciousness, teasing him with his lack of control. It was like a game of cat and mouse - a game that he was well acquainted with, having played it with Voldemort year after year.

There was a storm inside his head, a battle between his magic and his consciousness. Harry struggled and then reached with all his might for those tendrils, pulling them together in a knot. He had always been able to visualise his magic, something that Hermione found immeasurably frustrating but had admitted was an extremely useful skill in the middle of a war.

Susan watched as he struggled on the bed, fighting against some invisible force and then collapsed, beginning to sleep peacefully for the first time since they had found him.

He spoke to her later, when the cloud of exhaustion from taming his magic had lifted.

'Ron and Hermione are okay?'

'Yes they both fared better than you. We don't really know what happened it -'

'We?'

"Oh right, okay,' Susan said, struggling to connect the boy whose eyes held a darkness she couldn't quite place, with the leader she remembered, 'Dumbledore's Army.'

'Oh. I assume you brought me into this room?'

'Yes. We had to conjure up the bed - there weren't proper sleeping arrangements for all three of you.'

'Nightmares. Sleeping closer helps.'

'Right, yeh, I should have known, I mean we're in the middle of a war and we've all got them and you three have been doing Merlin doesn't want to imagine to help the war so of course you would -'

'You're rambling.'

She flushed at his directness. 'Sorry. Well we found you all in the living room and moved you up here. You were the hardest to move, your magic had developed a protective coating on you or something and I had to get Neville and Dean to help me lift you because all magic was locked out.'

'Thank you.'

'What?'

"Thank you - you know for looking after us and, well, staying.'

'Oh. You're welcome. Hermione has called a meeting or something, she says you and Ron need to be there, but I can tell her no if you need time to rest or anything.'

'No,' Harry said, his features softening at the mention of his friends, 'I'd like to hear whatever plan she's concocted whilst stuck in bed.'

'Okay but you have to take it easy. I'll let them know that you're not completely healed.'

Harry watched her leave and then gathered himself to see his two best friends.

…...

'Hey Mione,' he reached a hand out over her shoulder and pulled her close.

'Harry.' Hermione drew back and looked at him worriedly, 'Are you okay? Susan said your magic was going haywire.'

'I don't cope well on my own, and being trapped in a room reminds me of..' He tailed off.

'Don't worry, we understand. It will never happen again.' Ron chimed in, grateful to see his best friend up and about. Although he would never admit it to anyone else, not seeing Harry stable still made him feel unsteady.

'Yeh.' Hermione said softly, and then picked herself up and rearranged her expression into one that reminded Ron eerily of his mother - something that sent a pang through his chest. 'Harry you need a shower.'

'Yeh, mate you really do.' Ron gave him a playful shove from behind.

'Haven't you heard that I'm _extremely _delicate, maybe you shouldn't be as insulting.'

'I hardly think that a comment about your personal hygiene is going to harm you.'

'You know she has a point, it's her punches you need to worry about.'

'_Ronald.'_ snapped Hermione.

'Did you halt my recovery just to listen to you two bicker?'

'Right, yeh,' Hermione blushed, 'down to business.'

…...

**That's the end of that! I think that I'd accidentally written myself into a corner with the previous chapter, but hopefully I've sorted it out now. If anyone has any suggestions for storylines or anything you want to see in it at all really, then I'm open to whatever - I can't promise to follow all advice but any is welcome. Please leave a review, favourite and/or follow if you enjoyed what I've written so far :)**


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